Thoughts are always walking,
running, slipping and sliding, on a
hedonistic treadmill
caught in the algebra of
translational symmetry
that dictates,
when we get there
it will just be the same
as here.
I will always be thinking
what is waiting
to be done in
ten minutes from now.
Arun Kumar
How many songs do I need?
No, the question is not about my desire for life to serenade me with a constant stream of different songs. The question is about how many songs do I need in my playlist to feel content?
Could I be content with a mostly static collection of songs I grew up with (and like) OR continuously invest limited time and energy I have to keep up with the vast options of new songs that get released every year to explore ones I may like, and keep expanding my collection until it becomes an unmanageable digital clutter?
If music was my vocation, then maybe, yes. But even then, I read that there are about 60,000 new songs that are uploaded on Spotify each day. Really! That is truly an overwhelming number.
This question touches on a new source of angst that comes to us from many directions – the fear of missing out (the FOMO) on things we do not know about (but have a vague notion that they just might have the potential for improving the quality of our life).
Can we be content with what we have or will always be on the hedonistic treadmill of acquiring new songs? How much mental capacity do we need to invest to keep up with changes that are continuously taking shape around us?
The overarching question is to know when we have enough to make us feel content and be at peace with the universe, with ourselves, with the flow of time, with our being in the here and now.
When it is time to grace the feeling of Nirvana. To feel the gentle rhythm of life and universal connectedness playing in our ears without an urge to chase everything that suits my fancy.
Does the answer lay in the following path for a mindful life? Buddhism and learning the right perspectives to keep us grounded and anchored in the attitude that what we have is enough. Understanding that our “wants” are just a reflection of an unsettled mind?
The irony of how many songs do I need in my collection is that it is only occasionally I listen to what I already have and am “generally” happy with the experience. And yet, at other times, I feel the sentiment that by not keeping up with the latest, I am missing out on something “sublime” and which has potential for changing my life for something much better.
In the age of the internet, our sense of missing out is highly accentuated by the constant flow of information through our consciousness. Subscriptions to blog feeds and weekly newsletters, keeping up with various social media platforms and news feeds, keeps our attention flitting from one byte of information to the another.
In the end, we keep adding to our collection of things “to read” or to “get familiar”. Our Inbox that 500 unread messages saved to read; the bookmarks have overflowed and the container is bursting at its seam.
The burden of keeping up with various perceived commitments starts to feel like a crushing burden. A sense of panic that things in our life are getting out of our control.
One day, the only sane option is a mass delete that unburdens us from the guilt of having to see good intentions not being followed through.
Should I succumb to the urge that I should be growing my playlist with the latest songs? I could just rely on an effortless approach of occasional updates when a song catches my attention while watching a movie or listening to credits of some show and follow up on it. Should I?
Yes, I should.
Life is too short to spread our attention too thin. There is no point being jack of all trades and master none. There is no sense of pleasure and achievement in that. There is no peace of mind for continuously being on the hedonistic treadmill. In the end, all that “Brownian motion” that our attention goes through will ultimately make us feel worn.
It is better to be selective and focus on a few. A positive aspect of the interconnectedness of everything allows us to branch out into other areas and explore, as needed. However, we do not need to keep up with everything continuously.
It is better to have few islands to return to after flying high and exploring. We do not need to continuously seek new places to land.
Developing this attitude also requires being at peace with letting things go. Be at peace with not being at unease that we do not know everything there is to know.
Learn to feel light and nimble and not as if being suffocated by the onslaught of information, and by an urge to keep up with multitude of things. This is a no-win situation. Letting go of FOMO could make space for equanimity.
Chasing too many things is an impossible endeavor and a path of angst.
And while we are learning to do so, in the moments of doubt, we should remind ourselves of the opening lines of a poem by William Blake:
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
Arun Kumar
May I live this day
in such a way
that if the Reaper comes
whispers and says
he will be back morrow
to take it away
I would have no urge
to change the engagements
on my tray.
A thought I get sometimes is that if I became aware that tomorrow was to be my last day, then in today would I drop everything I had planned to do and read "Man's Search for Meaning" instead, or would I be comfortable enough with what I had planned to do in the first place and would not care whether I have read Victor Frankl’s book or not?
However, if I were to regret not reading the book, why would I not go ahead and read it anyway whether I knew I am to die tomorrow or not.
In essence, if I were to live in a way that is in harmony with the awareness of my mortality, knowing or not knowing which day I will die is not relevant. This is so because either way there is nothing I need to change.
On the other hand, if the knowledge of the day I die is going to be pertinent in the context of the way I live, and thereby, urges me to make some tweaks, why would I not live in that way to begin with?
Because I will never know the day I am going to die - it could be tomorrow, or the day after, or the same date as today the next year - I should always be packed and prepared to leave.
of shared words.